


Verve (Cut!)

by Phritzie



Series: You Wouldn't Steal A Heart [3]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Being Walked In On, Exhibitionism, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Oral Fixation, Sexual Content, Slurs, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 05:36:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phritzie/pseuds/Phritzie
Summary: Everybody just wants to play their games a little longer.





	Verve (Cut!)

**Author's Note:**

> There are too many pop culture references in this chili's tonight. No explanation available; I just needed to write something silly and lacking in evil butchery (and maybe play around with expanding this universe a teeny amount...) before getting deep into dead ex hell with Drinking Buddies.  
> I decided to give this a grammar patch, and Sliske's POV has been buffed.

The stream went dark, and users started to leave the chat. Felix exited the page.

12:30 AM. Having chosen to ignore his mission statement, Felix refilled her favorite coffee mug with water — an old ceramics project shaped like a fat baleen whale — and prepared to stay up even later.

An entire month gone. In the intervening weeks, Felix had chosen to scrimp on eating out and other minor conveniences. There were quality of life changes come due to enact, and the simplest one had been waiting for her when she'd gotten in the night prior, a yellow envelope on her doorstep.

After she finally wrangled it into connecting to her laptop, she was confident in its capability.  _Should work anywhere in this postage stamp._ The product instructions dictated that the device was to rest on the collarbone, so Felix dipped her head, donning the open band like a cloak, and sent off a quick text. _I got a microphone._

Openly delighted, Sliske informed her that he was glad she'd decided to join them in the modern age from her seclusion in 2004.

And promptly invited her to a Skype call.  
  
"You can never make fun of me again. I can't believe you won't use Discord."

It took them a while to get the call to stop ending unprompted.

"It is _so much_ better," Felix moaned. "No dropped connections. No creeps randomly messaging you from an email you've never seen before. By and for the people, Sliske. It's practically a socialist movement."

Well, a few hours. They were both irritated but she would maintain that his share of pain was self-imposed.

"Is Tinychat down or something? Which one of us is living in the past?"

At least their exchange packages had arrived unscathed.  
  
Pressed neatly in teal plaid buttoned up one too few, Sliske peered with narrow eyes into the box she'd sent him and dug around. "Yes, 'socialism.' My favorite theory, particularly because it has the word 'social' in it."

His room was mostly a mystery to her, cast in pale gray. Through the window of his camera was a scene of meticulous obsession with literature, space travel, and Prince posters. If she squinted, she could just make out the beginnings of a shelf purposed singularly to house Funko Pops.  
  
Felix smiled incredulously, brows low. "You care for politics?"  
  
"No, not at all," Sliske admitted, swishing blithe fingers through little bits of Styrofoam. "They're boring, or depressing, depending on how closely you pay attention." A clawed hand withdrew a plastic tub, wrist twisting to admire it. When he peeled open the lid his expression skewed with suspicious dismay at the silky brown paste inside. "Oh my."  
  
"It's doenjang. Fermented soybean. You mix it with— well, in your case, water. To produce doenjang guk." He was clearly disgusted but had the grace to quirk an eyeridge, mouth tight. She sighed and waved a hand. "I've heard Mahjarrat like the taste of sodium chloride, and it's the saltiest thing I know how to make."

Sliske's condescending grin was still wary. "You do realize that's adorable."

Felix shrugged, not invested in explaining her reasoning to him. "I thought it was better than mailing you a chunk of halite." _Like a salt lick for a cow._

Setting the tub aside on a precarious tower of CDs, he dove back into sorting through packing peanuts. She contained her laughter when he got a few stuck on his claws, but only just barely.  
  
"Alright," Sliske muttered, revealing a knitted hat. Deep purple and emblazoned with the words 'Hot For Void Pinocchio,' it was her favorite addition to the package. "Fair assessment."  
  
Her snickering earned Felix an ugly glance. "You shouldn't be mad," she teased lightly. Lifting the bulk of her hair over a shoulder, she worked it into a dark brown twist, anticipatory.  
  
"And yet." With a grudging smile he pulled the hat over his head and resumed fishing through the box, scooping out some of the white material impatiently.  
  
"There's two more things." _We agreed on four, right?_  She bit her lip as Sliske extracted a hard-shelled case, dragging it across his nose in a theatrical sniff. _Clown._ Prying claws found the seam and flipped the case open. They chiseled out the contents and he scented them too, lighter this time. The flickering glass struck her as complimentary when it threw tiny sparkles across his face and neck in reply.  
  
"Cologne?" Puzzled, he gave the bottle a watery shake. "Or do you expect me to eat this too?"  
  
The lights in her room were dim, hardly bright enough to see across to the bar separating her living space from the kitchenette. But the illumination from her laptop threw her face into tight angles of amusement as Felix laughed, clutching her arms. "Yuck! If you want to, be my guest. That's Thierry Mugler."  
  
Sliske appeared disturbed with her and, alarmingly, a little impressed. "Why hello, Thierry," he murmured, cradling the amethyst-colored fragrance with respectful hands. "I never knew you."  
  
It was nice, their... friendship. It definitely helped pass the time when her head would betray her, conjuring panic from nothing, or fill with fuzzy cotton, too tired to sleep.

What Sliske actually got out of it, Felix still wasn't firm on. They exchanged embarrassing snaps. Antagonized each other over Twitter, though it was possible that was solely for the entertainment of his followers. His flirtations were endless, and sometimes she even chose to flirt back. They were involved in a strange dance, a place between polite but legitimate interest and lustdrunk midnight benders.

 _Wonder where we are on that spectrum right now,_ she thought, and pushed back her curls with a flick.  
  
"Too thoughtful." Sliske pried the lid off a long, black tin and plucked out a brightly colored stick. Studied it a moment and bent his head. From the quick, marble roll of force over metal, she surmised a test - rubbed against a piece of paper somewhere on his desk, maybe.

"Hmm." Subtle but pleased. The stick reappeared at his bowed chin. Touched to his bottom lip once, twice. "Carmine."  
  
Ignoring a hot thrill, Felix adopted a look of casual indifference. "Yeah, I figured you might like some new ones."

His Instagram was a treasure trove of the surrealist imagination, abundant with art in a variety of mediums, but he obviously favored large compositions; impossible scenes run glamorously feasible with the persuasion of oils. In a post from long before they'd begun consorting, Sliske had expressed some regret for his dwindling supply of hard pastels. Something about the trouble of replacing them. The lot numbers were faded in the photo, but she'd done her best.  
  
Cardboard flaps disappeared as he closed the box and set it down out of sight. "Thank you, Felix." He turned expectant amber eyes on her then, hands lacing beneath his chin. "Well? Keep me in suspense."  
  
Felix had half a mind to, darting a glare at him as she left to grab the package he'd sent. It lay patiently in front of the hall closet. As she levered it into her arms, she flipped the nearby switch. Fairy lights winked into life. "Don't fall asleep on me," she chided, and set it down on the bed by her laptop to hunt down scissors.  
  
"Would you like that?" Sliske wondered darkly, muted by the distance of her speakers.

Felix swallowed and smiled angrily down at the carpet. _What the hell was I looking for. Box. Scissors._ She tried to form ideas about where sharp objects were in her house, but nothing came forth. 

Omniscient, Sliske chuckled. "I'll get suspicious if you take much longer." The sound of a swivelchair signified that he had risen too, and then it was oddly quiet. _He muted his microphone. Great, that'll probably crash the client again._  
  
Finally locating a box cutter under her bathroom sink, Felix returned to her bed to find that he had left entirely. She raised an eyebrow but simply got to splitting open clear bands of tape, peeling away the shipping label and slapping it against the side of the cardboard to leave it intact first.

 _England, huh?_ Her heart beat a little faster, a symptom of hope. _Well, I'll be visiting my nieces soon. I could try to... get some coffee with him..._  
  
“No, stop it,” Felix muttered to herself, frowning. Meeting up was a distant fantasy and for her health, it needed to stay that way. She pushed it from her mind.  
  
"There's an order."

Her jump was bad, startled by his sudden return. Retracting the blade of the box cutter with a quiet click, she sighed as Sliske gestured at her impatiently, sprawling in his chair like he had never left. "Go on."  
  
Indeed, there were layers, objects outlined in red tissue paper. Given the freedom of insurmountable distance there was nothing to stop her from dumping it all out and opening it how she liked, but Felix was an adult.  
  
"Okay. Top to bottom?" The first item was very light and flexed under little pressure, whispering against the crêpe film surrounding it.  
  
His filthy chuckle almost hurt. "Please." Claws tapped the armrest under them, waiting.

 _Check your attachment_ , she mused.  _This is just a fun distraction for him._

"You're so obvious." Head bent, she held the little package to her collarbones and tore into the soft wrapper. Papery crinkles rasped close to the receiver on the band. "Sensory enough?"

Glowing eyes slid shut as Sliske melted into his chair, humming. He looked reasonably content and so she continued until there was nothing more to rip apart. Felix squinted at the uncovered item.  
  
To say she was baffled would be kind. The custom sheath depicted a couple desperately trying to eat a cob of corn sandwiched between their mouths, swimming in popped kernels. "Is this... porn?"

When he said nothing, she looked up. His right eye peaked at her and he huffed.  
  
"No, but I won't make the same mistake twice. Remind me to google customs and exports law later." 

_Gods, please don't_. Confusion outrivaled embarrassment. She flipped the DVD case over, no more enlightened by the language there. _I don't even recognize any of these actors._  
  
"Waste of time," Felix remarked. "England hasn't got anything good in the way of erotica." He took a deep breath as though to correct her and she continued quickly. "Can you even read this? And why the second one, is there a prequel?"  
  
Sliske curled his right hand and eased slightly forward on an elbow, knuckles grazing his chin. "It's only the _best_ worst movie." The single yellow slit observing her glittered with misrule. "You  _have_  to tell me as soon as you see it."  
  
"Sounds controversial," Felix mumbled. But she would. As recommendations went, his weren't terrible. The second blaze of red left its box. She didn't bother to amuse him that time, simply breaking the end taped shut to free the next item from its flimsy captor. When she discovered what that prisoner was, hot regret rose in her cheeks.

Felix took it all back. They were not friends. The exchange was a horrible idea.

Arguably the most attractive habit of his she'd witnessed to date, sharp claws whispered over his lips to conceal a smile. "Share your thoughts, if you've got any."  
  
Nonplussed, Felix rubbed the many creases over the book's spine. _Games People Play._ The classic title cut an aggressively designed contrast against the paperback's simple white background.

 _Uh_. "Well."  _Isn't this..._  "I didn't know you were into Freudian psychology." _Or pop philosophy._ Despite herself, she cracked the worn dialectical debate open, wincing, and scanned a few pages. Numerous among them were scored with highlighter and ballpoint, unending notations, and the odd vicious scratching of disagreement.

"Hey Sliske?" An entire chapter was crossed out, redacted by bold lines of inky judgement. _Why did you give me this?_ Transfixed, her voice broke on a whisper. "Do I have to ask?"

"A relic of the only degree I ever bothered pursuing to certification," Sliske explained lightly, a voice in the air as she scanned the ravaged text. "Research for my thesis. Vexing man, Berne. Held opinions about power and behavior like only a mortal could. But I thought perhaps it might be fun for you, to witness my struggle with it, seeing as you find yourself in the collegiate lifestyle."  
  
It _was_ sort of absorbing. In some places he enthused agreeable concepts, speedy ovals espousing key passages. Sharp exclamation points and vibrant color coding leapt off the page. In other places, he'd written _so small_ in the margins, rude, utterly scathing insults about the author himself.

Silent, she read his deriding tangent on emotional blackmail for a good few minutes before remembering that he was still on the call with her. When Felix looked back at her screen he was staring. "Thanks," she said quietly.

Sliske looked away. "You're welcome," he muttered, head tilted to regard something on his floor.  
  
Throat dry, Felix took another drink of water, unsure. "Psychiatry?" She frowned at him, half joking. "A part of me says not to trust you around mentally vulnerable people."

"Well, I wanted to be an actor," he admitted secretively, polishing an eyeridge with a clawtipped finger. "But that lost its charm, after a time." What probing transmitted from eye to webcam he only shrugged at. "I've found life is more enjoyable when speaking to a script of my own design."  
  
"I guess I've always thought it was important to fight for change," Felix offered in reply, tapping the book. He hummed appreciatively, and she held it closer to the microphone, rapping blunt nails against the cover. After a while, she stopped. "Don't think I'd ever become a legislator, or anything like that."  
  
Sliske gave her a devilish once-over. "Not even for all those exquisite secretaries?"  
  
"Super unethical," she laughed, face heating anyway. "Moral bankruptcy doesn't even begin to define how wrong that is."

Suddenly, the hour overcame her, and Felix badly suppressed a yawn. His smirk fell, eyes softening strangely. "Are you tired?"

She was, and a glance at the clock told her that Saturday wasn't far from dawning, but the thought of leaving the call on that note made her anxious. Shaking her head, she reached inside the box again. "No, there's more, remember?" Her fingertips brushed artificial velvet. It hushed against her skin, black and encasing a box shaped like a heart.

Mind heavy with questions, all Felix could produce was a weak huff. "Seriously?"  
  
"It's very serious." Sliske leaned forward to brace his forearms against his legs. "Nothing amusing about it." She found a hinge and cracked it open, surprised.  
  
"Oh! Hey!" Felix plucked a chocolate from its neat position in the center of the arrangement. "I haven't had real chocolate in years, wow."  
  
"The complaint of many an expat," he drawled, a hungry sound in the quiet. Her fingers stilled. She'd been content to try one, thinking it polite, but his desirous tone was giving her troubles already.  
  
Putting the heart down, she leveled a look into the webcam. "What are you angling for now?"  
  
Sliske shifted in a manner that made her eyes narrow. "Oh, you know my ways." Tight shoulders hunched, and she heard it when he failed to cover his moan properly, claws absent. The soft clink of a button called for her attention. "Just looking for a little stimulation."  
  
Fighting off a shiver, Felix popped the brown confection in her mouth. If she couldn't speak, maybe it would be easier not to ask. A long sigh filled the ensuing pause as her jaws worked around it, and suddenly he was short of breath, chest rising and falling rapidly. The dark, sweet taste lingered on her tongue as she swallowed, and he bit his lip.  
  
_Is he...?_  It occurred to her how close her mouth was to the microphone around her neck, the ease of travel to the receiver.  _No, that's too much, even for him_.  
  
"Excellent, Felix," he murmured, and his hands reappeared, fisted around his shirt. If she didn't know better she'd have thought maybe Sliske was sweating from the way he forced it up, baring the lower half of his torso.  
  
Incredulous, she picked out another chocolate. _He is._ "You're getting off to this." At his grinning hiss, she ate it, considering the implications as she chewed. "But you aren't touching yourself."  
  
Marginally affronted, Sliske fixed her with a stare. His chair made strained noises against a slow tip backward, submitting for her inspection the curve pressed neatly up against the unmolested fly of his jeans. "Correct. And I don't intend to, as we agreed."

Their dalliances existed in a different space than the casual and easy. A loosely constructed set of rules had emerged over time, the result of trial and error. They dictated their actions when his libido or her curiosity got the better of them. 'Don't send nude snapchats while the other is at work.' 'Do invite each other to engage in sinful acts, _at home_.' And most important, 'don't assume that permission given once means permission given forever.'

"Which is what the casual destruction of your clothes is for," Felix accused, indicating the shirt suffering under his abuse.  
  
"I didn't imply a lack of difficulty," Sliske rasped, groaning as she ate another chocolate from the box. "You know, it's awfully unfair of you to do that."  
  
She pulled her ring finger from her mouth and he shuddered. "It's unfair to spring a kink on someone, you cocksucker."

" _Fuck—_ " Sliske's eyes did something perilous, full with black. "Oh,  _darling_ _—_ "

"So, is it just chocolate, or is it an oral thing?"

"— _please_ say that again—" 

 _Never let it be said that aliens don't have hair triggers._ "Or you could answer me." A low clench in her spine told Felix that she wasn't really fit to judge, though. She tugged at the neck of her long-sleeve as he spoke, curt but thick with craving.

"No, and yes."

Brows high, Felix abandoned the rich treats in favor of raising her fingers to her lips. He watched eagerly as she banished all traces of the dessert from them. It was odd, questioning whether the wet drag of her tongue was more appealing this way or that, but Sliske seemed to revel at every sound, mouth parted. The sweetness had already long faded when he swallowed around another moan.

"But would you be cross?" His claws were nearly finished making his shirt into useless strips. "If I did?"  
  
It was tough to look disinterested. _Considering it’s been hanging over me like a scythe all week, not really._

"Did what," Felix replied bluntly, stretching to adjust the tilt of her screen. "Lose your mind? I knew you got all hot from words, but  _sucking?_ Is that why you blather on about giving head all the time?"

From where he sat in a spring-tensed arrangement of visible limbs, Sliske's posture was reminiscent of someone that'd been chained to his chair, back beginning to slope into a telling arch. Voice low and smothering, he whispered an affirmative to the ceiling.

"I didn't catch that."

Sliske made an aggrieved face. Slowly, as if with great effort, thirsting hands traveled to his neck and gripped, forearms stiff. Felix wondered for the briefest moment if he would respond well to her involving other objects and trembled.  
  
Curved chinpoints dipping in a nod, Sliske indicated her body with ravenous eyes. "More than," he panted. "The tip of the iceberg. Keep talking, and you'll find out."  
  
Felix wordlessly muted her microphone. Her skin felt tight everywhere, confined, tingling; the shirt could stay but in rebellion she stripped off her leggings. The reply of his wrought sigh went ignored. When there was no more risk of jostling around the receiver, she unmuted herself and rose, determined to find something suitable to torture him.  
  
In all fairness, Sliske was being very good. His shallow breathing filled her apartment with its neediness, but he was waiting, though how long that would last she suspected few could predict. Felix spied the box cutter on her floor and tossed it on her desk.

_Options, options._

The only thing decorating the wooden surface of her road salvage become workspace was a pink pen pot and _lots_ of paper. She'd yet to entertain the hobby of collecting titillating props, and nothing she saw immediately jumped out as appropriately organic or called to her sense for eroticism.

 _A pen could do, I guess, but I should be merciless,_ Felix mused darkly. _It's what he deserves._

And that was all she needed. Inspiration struck.

 _Oh, that's right._ Felix jostled open the Craigslist rescue's junk drawer, praying that she hadn't eaten them all. _Something for someone naughty._

 

* * *

 

She was taking a while, and to pass the time Sliske removed the remainder of his ruined shirt, skin burning under the warm plaid.

 _Another casualty._ He chanced a look down at himself and moaned. _Felix... Come over, why don't you._ The close cut of the jeans he favored were strung tight with tension from the tent he was pitching, and it... bothered. Obscenity failed to capture how utterly put out he was that the exhilarating magic of psychosexual tension brewing between them was once more only destined to culminate in a Kleenex, so Sliske differed to cleaner language. _A ridiculous waste of scarce resources, that's what this is._  
  
He was gifted. Something he both enjoyed and regretted about their chats was that it'd become increasingly difficult not to reveal those aptitudes. _I could be there in minutes._  
  
Her living space practically thrummed with mystery. Brief corner views into the depths of it came inconstantly - a peak at her kitchenette with the listing of the webcam, a more _intentional_ tour of the window that opened to a concrete-sided brownstone sheltering her street. Right then he could only make out vague shapes. A garland of ball lights on connected strings. An evidential number of pillows. A heap of mussed covers that could do with yet more dishevelment.

 _Doubt her grand enthusiasm to so sudden a visit,_ Sliske groused. Beyond sight, Felix tried not to agitate too obviously the miscellaneous tat of her 'junk drawer', whatever entirely useful compositions of many an ASMRtist's budding innovations to the problem presented by tingle-resistance she qualified as 'junk'. _Eager to please, though._ Perhaps that could work to his benefit one day. If he managed not to overplay his hand falling over himself to please her first.

A couple more minutes of frustrated, aroused anxiety passed, until finally her quiet sighs and careful rummaging blended into such familiar foleyisms they wore down Sliske's patience. Desire pooling low in his abdomen at the prospect of engaging other senses, he cast his whisper shamelessly. "Darling."

Something ceramic upended as he startled her, scattering what he thought could be writing utensils. "I hope you're fucking soaking for this." A strangled noise escaped her and that was significantly more encouraging to hear. "My body is ready."  
  
Abrupt enough to surprise, a maliciously-colored laugh took another swing at his confidence. Reentering the view of her webcam, Felix crawled into that bed of hers, soft lavender drawn up and over bared legs. "You had my attention until that last bit," she admonished between chuckles. "In the future, please don't make me think about Nintendo executives."

 _There_ was a question, but before he could ask it Felix pushed a red hook into her mouth.  
  
_Candy cane_. Sliske struggled to maintain a view of it sliding between her lips as his head fell back against his computer chair. "I should have sent lollies." The very idea was pushing his buttons.  
  
Clearly humoring him at this point, she sucked the minty confection as it withdrew in a slick pop. Neurons fired, and his hips crooked. "So, are we going to do this until you snap," Felix asked dryly, waving the swirled cane in a small circle, "or can I open the last one?"  
  
Sliske had forgotten it entirely. Sometimes it was hard to tell when he'd crossed a line with the persistently dishonest - Felix was astoundingly bad at concealing her surface-level emotions, but she did possess a talent for betraying the outcomes he expected from them, and that turned him on more than it didn't.

"Of course, my dear." Want scratched his throat, and his words, raw. "Just be open-minded."  
  
Felix shivered, and he smiled. "Tramp." Biting back a retort that would only validate the accusation, he watched her undo the tape fixing the tissue paper together, intrigued by the curious noise she made. "What is this?"  
  
Sliske muffled another curse. "That's criminal. You know damn well, there's no advantage to you in being shy. I'm not strong enough." She held the object high for him to see and he resisted the request that immediately came to mind. _Unsafe. She could choke on it._  His eyes grew and then narrowed. _Oh_. Composure foiled, he closed his mouth firmly and exhaled.

 _Yes. She could. Oh, fuck, she could—_  
  
"This seems a little fast paced," Felix admitted, voice tight as she sat up straighter. "Even for you."  
  
"It's got a slow setting," he offered, clutching the base of his skull to dull the knife edge of anticipation. She fiddled with it. The device started humming and she balked, dropping it.  
  
"Shit." Her alarmed exclamation crackled the microphone, head down, eyes darting. Choking back a groan with halfhearted laughter, he pressed a clawed hand to his forehead.  
  
_I’m done for._ "No need to fuss," Sliske assured tightly, damning his excitable imagination. She pawed through her covers. "You'll find it... one way or another."  
  
Felix spared him a scowl. "I'm not made of batteries." The low sound stopped, and she threw the connected series of straps and rings back in the box. "Guthix, the sheer audacity. Sending someone you barely know a girdle." Ever the hypocrite, her mouth found the end of the candy cane again.  
  
_I need to find a way to broach the subject of interdimensional travel._ Feet sliding against the floor, Sliske hooked thumbs into the loops around his waist, voice syrup. "Am I wrong, or are you in agreement?" Her sigh was all he needed. Sliske shuffled out of his jeans and she watched, extending an accusing finger.  
  
“You assume a lot,” Felix hissed, expression vacillating between faux irritation and openly intoxicated. "And for the record, I'm not wearing it."  
  
"No?" Unaffected, he flung the ragged denim away and palmed himself thoughtfully, attempting to hold her gaze through the camera lens. "Too bad. I was going to wear mine."

That got the desired result out of her, hands folding over her face as she hid in the cloud of her hair. "You have got to be stopped." He heard an irritated growl and a crunch as she bit the brittle hook off the cane. Grumbling around shards of candy, she quietly berated him. "Terror walking the earth. I have whiplash."

Sliske smiled pleasantly. Frown locked around the stick of peppermint protruding from her mouth, Felix muted herself again.

He purred in support when she drew down the neckline of her shirt.

 

* * *

 

_Zaros alive, why doesn’t he just go fuck them._

Glaring at the wall above his desk, Wahisietel unsuccessfully attempted to drown out the noises drifting through it by pointedly increasing the volume on his computer.  _The most talented among us at bending the laws of physics, and he prefers to cavort with people online._

He scowled at a particularly cringe-worthy groan, mouse straining under his agitated clicks. _I can’t raid like this._ Typed a quick ‘AFK’ to alert his party and got up, spine complaining. 

Knowing what he did, he should have knocked. “Sliske!” Complexion flush with embarrassment, the unfamiliar woman on his monitor fled from their call in a panic. He flinched at the sinister waterdrop tone, and tried not to feel remorseful about shaming her by interrupting their tryst.

_Serves them right using Skype in this age._

And his brother was scarcely ever ashamed, flopping in tormented nudity back against his chair as he spun to face him. Eyes quickly training on his head, Wahisietel's sour frown deepened. “What is a void Pinocchio?”

“You _really_ had to do that to me. She made me _soy_ , Wahi.” Sliske raised a shadowy hand at him. “Well, guess what! _You’re_ not getting any soy now!”

Wahisietel slammed the door and decided to leave the flat for the afternoon, furious, but not before trying to impress logic upon him. "Next time don't pussyfoot around, and I won't be there to interrupt!”

A dark bolt of energy tore through the opposite wall. Another chunk off their deposit. _Alright, you little shit._ He struggled to remember where he'd put his phone.  _Now you've brought this upon yourself._

Sliske didn't give him a great deal of time to think, and he dodged another angry slurry of shadow magic on the way to his room, cursing.

A hand found his phone charging by the window. Wahisietel dialed as he wiggled the pane up its old metal track. "Azzanadra. No, don't hang up. We're staging an intervention."

 


End file.
